The Sound of Rain Read online

  Larkin tolerated it, but Ben handled it all smoothly, assuring everyone that God had a plan better than any they could come up with on their own and reminding them all that his father had run the company largely by himself until now and could certainly continue to do so.

  Once everyone left, Larkin, her mother, and Ben went into the house, but before Ben could cross the threshold, Daddy was there, blocking the way. “You aren’t welcome here.”

  “I had hoped we could discuss this calmly,” Ben said.

  “There’s nothing to discuss. You don’t live here. You don’t belong here, and I’d thank you never to darken my door again.” Daddy slammed the door and that was the last time Larkin had seen Ben.

  She knew he planned to head north but had always wondered where he went from there. She’d sometimes imagined him in Africa or China, but the fact that he was in Appalachia delighted her. The article she’d read about the poverty and suffering in the region had touched her deeply, and now that she knew her own brother was there, trying to help, she wanted to go more than anything.

  She lowered the letter and looked at her mother. “Do you have others?”

  Mother looked worried but nodded her head. “I keep them hidden inside the punch bowl on the top shelf of the pantry.” She grasped Larkin’s arm in an iron grip. “You may read them, but you must never let your father know.” She hung her head. “He would feel it was a betrayal. Maybe even an unforgiveable one.”

  Larkin nodded and scanned the letter once more. She felt a deep longing to join her brother. To meet this Granny Jane and to help the poor people of Kentucky. As much as she loved her work at the hospital, this somehow seemed ever so much more important. Now she didn’t need Judd Markley. All she had to do was write to Ben.

  Chapter

  11

  Judd whistled as he cleaned the spark plugs in the old Ford truck. It was Friday again, the weather was the best he’d seen it since coming to South Carolina, and he was planning to do some exploring over the weekend. He’d been feeling almighty homesick and figured a good cure for it would be to get more comfortable with the place he’d landed. Carlton was going to take him and Hank to the Francis Marion National Forest to see how they’d used even-age management practices to restore the forest after years of uncontrolled logging and rampant fires.

  It was technically a working trip, but Carlton promised some hunting and fishing along the way, which made it sound like mostly a good time to Judd. Especially now that the weather had cooled off enough that he could breathe the air rather than swim in it. They’d sleep out Saturday night—something Judd hadn’t done since before Korea. Yup, he might could get used to this place if he tried.

  “You ready for a hurricane?” Chuck slapped Judd on the shoulder and leaned against the side of the truck.

  “Is one coming?” Judd had heard about hurricanes and didn’t much relish the idea of being around for one. He’d seen hail, blizzards, torrential rain, and even a little ole tornado one time, but a hurricane struck him as something mightier than all those put together.

  “Aw, probably not. Papers say this storm they’ve called Hazel has knocked the stuffing out of Haiti, but it’s supposed to stay on out there in the Atlantic.” He squinted at the crystal-clear sky. “Might fling some rain at us if we’re lucky. Dry as this summer’s been, a little rain would be a fine thing. Keep the forest fires down, if nothing else.”

  “You reckon Carlton’ll cancel our trip?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Doubt it. Although I wouldn’t much want to be sleeping out if the wind and rain kicks up.” He winked. “Probably wants to see how tough you are.”

  Judd replaced the last spark plug and wiped his hands on a rag. He grinned. “A corner of a hurricane might not be too bad. Give me something to write home about.”

  “They surely are something to see. We ever get a good one you’ll wish you were back in one of those mines, fifty feet underground where the storm can’t get you.”

  Judd forced a smile, but he was pretty sure no storm could ever be big enough to make him want to go back inside a mine.

  It took Larkin days of thinking, writing, and revising, but she finally had a letter ready to go in the mailbox on Friday, October fourteenth. She carried it in her pinafore pocket while she tended to her duties.

  She was on her way out, heart light at the thought of how her brother would get her letter and immediately send for her to join him, when she heard Lill call out.

  “Larkin.”

  She backed up a few feet and stuck her head in Lill’s room. “I’m here.”

  Lill patted the bed, grimacing as she did so. Larkin knew she was in pretty constant pain these days. “Come sit a minute.”

  Larkin stuck one hand in her pocket and crinkled the envelope. She was itching to get it in the day’s mail, but Lill was more important. Another few minutes wouldn’t matter. She went in the room and settled on the edge of the bed.

  Lill sighed, and the sound was so soft, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. “I’m not long for this world.”

  “Oh, Lill, don’t talk that way. You’re doing really well and—”

  Lill held up a hand. “No. No. It’s a good thing. I’ve made peace with the past and, thanks to Mother force-feeding me the Bible all those years, I’m not worried about what comes next.” She got a faraway look in her eyes, and Larkin could almost imagine she was peering through one of heaven’s windows at that moment. She refocused. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Larkin raised her eyebrows. “Me? Why in the world?”

  “You have a gift for life and it’s wasted on those who don’t even know they’re dying.”

  Larkin wanted to protest, but Lill silenced her with a look. “You positively bubble over with the joy of living. It’s been a pleasure to see, but I have this notion I can’t shake that God has bigger plans for you.”

  Larkin couldn’t think what to say. She considered that she, too, had the feeling she was supposed to do something great. She touched the letter again, hoping it was the first step toward her destiny.

  Smiling, Larkin straightened Lill’s bedclothes and patted her bony hand. “Thank you, Lill. I hope you’ll stay here with us a long time yet, but I’m glad you told me all the same.”

  Lill’s smile was angelic. “Oh, honey. I hope I’m not here but another minute or two. I’m tired and there’s too much sorrow in this world for me anymore. But you—you have a gift that’s yet to be used up. You go on out there and do what the Lord tells you to.”

  Larkin stood and leaned over to kiss the cheek of this woman who had become so precious to her. “I’ll do it, Lill. I promise.”

  Lill cupped her face and smiled into her eyes. “That’s good enough for me,” she said.

  Larkin left the room and tidied up the cleaning closet on her way out. It wasn’t really her job, but one of the other girls had left it in disarray and the mindless work gave her a few moments to mull over what Lill said. Her words felt almost prophetic, which was something Larkin had never thought much about. Did God really have a specific plan for her? And if He did, surely it was the work she wanted to do in Appalachia. Learning about Ben was like a message from God that she was on the right track. Yes. That was it. Everything fit together just so.

  “Larkin.”

  She turned to see Nurse Enright standing in the doorway. She stood up a little straighter. “Yes, ma’am, just finishing up here.”

  The head nurse stepped into the closet and eased the door shut behind her. Larkin felt all her senses go on alert.

  “Lill just passed.”

  Larkin felt confused. “She . . . what?”

  “She’s gone.” Nurse Enright gave her head a little shake. “Just like that. Just like she’d made up her mind to walk through an open door.”

  Larkin swallowed hard. Nurse Enright wasn’t usually nice like this. She thought she could stand the news better if she weren’t being so nice.

  The older woman reached out and patted La
rkin on the shoulder. “She doesn’t have any family that we know of. I thought you might want to say goodbye since the two of you had gotten close.”

  Larkin nodded as tears spilled onto her pinafore. She had the wherewithal to be surprised that Nurse Enright had noticed her relationship with Lill. Maybe the head nurse wasn’t so tough after all. She decided to go back to the little room and kiss Lill’s cheek one more time. Although she supposed they’d already said their goodbyes even if Larkin hadn’t realized it at the time.

  Larkin dragged home around six that evening. The perfect Friday afternoon had given way to darkening clouds, and the sky had the strange glow it got when a hurricane was off the coast. There had been a hurricane warning issued that morning for a storm that killed hundreds in Haiti a few days ago. But the weather forecasters were saying it would be a glancing blow at most. Larkin gazed out at the horizon, trying to picture the swirling maelstrom out over the ocean somewhere. She almost wished it would come ashore and strip all her sadness away.

  Although she knew Lill had been ready to die even at her young age, the loss left her feeling like she was wasting time living in her parents’ house and doing halfhearted volunteer work. Life was short and she had much to accomplish. Lill had said so.

  Larkin walked inside and found her mother putting dinner on the table. Daddy sat in his usual spot, newspaper folded beside his plate.

  “George, put that paper away. Larkin’s home, so now we can all sit down and have dinner as a family.”

  Daddy sighed and pushed the paper aside. He smiled at Larkin, but she had the notion he wasn’t really seeing her. She debated telling her parents about Lill but decided not to. What would they care that a woman they’d never met was gone? She probably shouldn’t care so much either, but she did.

  After a short blessing, they dug into their pork chops with wild rice and green beans. Mother was getting fancy again, but Larkin was pretty sure Daddy didn’t appreciate it. He just ate, casting longing glances at the newspaper.

  “Daddy, do you know what happened to Ben?”

  Larkin’s mother froze with her fork halfway to her mouth. After a moment she took the bite and forced it down. Daddy kept eating, but he looked hard at Larkin.

  “Ben who?” he said at last.

  “My brother. Your son. You know who I mean. We’re all adults here.” She darted a look around the table. Mother was pale and sipping her water. “I don’t understand why we can’t talk about him.” Then in a smaller voice: “I miss him.”

  “Your brother was as good as dead the day he chose to follow in my father’s footsteps and sacrifice his family on the altar of the church.” Daddy folded his napkin, picked up his newspaper, and left the room.

  Larkin stared at her plate, not daring to meet her mother’s eyes. Lill died. Ben did not. She couldn’t begin to fathom why her father would choose to behave as though he had. And what did he mean about sacrifice?

  “Larkin.”

  She raised her head and met her mother’s eyes. Her sad eyes.

  “I don’t quite understand it either, but I’ve had more time to think about how your father’s past has influenced him.” She sighed and took a sip of water. “His own father—you probably don’t remember him since you were so young when he died—was a very religious man. He worked in turpentine, barely making enough to keep the family fed, but even so he gave every penny he could to the church. George doesn’t talk about it much, but I think he sometimes went without so your grandfather could help pay for a new organ or the pastor’s salary.” She began clearing dishes as though it was easier to talk with her hands occupied.

  “You might say your father pulled himself up by his bootstraps and went to work for Waccamaw Timber’s biggest competitor. I didn’t really know him then.” Her hands stilled and she got a faraway look on her face. “But I’d seen him around and he was so handsome, so commanding.” She gave her head a little shake. “Something I’ve never been privy to transpired between George and my father, and suddenly he was my father’s right-hand man at Waccamaw and that other company went out of business within the year. We began seeing one another, and when we married, Father made it clear George would be his successor at the company. When his own father died, he left every penny to the church.”

  She stood, gathering an armload of dishes. “I think your father feels like he’s been fighting the church all his life, and your brother, well, it’s as though he’s gone over to the enemy’s side.”

  Larkin felt the tears she’d held back at Lill’s bedside begin to well. “Why can’t he just love Ben, anyway? Why can’t he let us make our own choices?”

  Her mother bowed her head. “Pride, I suppose. We all have it, it’s just some of us let it have more say in our lives than we ought.”

  Larkin sighed and began piling up dishes, as well. “Well, he can’t make me stop thinking about my brother.”

  “No. He can’t do that. And I hope you will always remember him. And maybe one day . . .” She paused, and Larkin felt hope swell. “Well, never mind.”

  Feeling dejected, Larkin was halfway to the kitchen when she remembered the letter in the pocket of her pinafore hanging on a hook near the door. She gasped. With Lill dying, she’d forgotten to put it in the mailbox. She glanced out the window. The rain had begun falling after they sat down to eat and now it was coming in waves—heavy, then gentle, then heavy again. It was pouring at the moment but would likely ease up and even stop shortly. Larkin deposited the dishes in the sink and opened the back door, snagging her letter as she did.

  “Larkin, get back in here. They’re saying that hurricane will pass us by, but it’s still not fit to be outside.” Mother began running water in the sink.

  “I just need to . . .”

  “What could you possibly need to do this evening?”

  Larkin fingered the envelope, then tucked it inside her blouse. She could mail it in the morning. It wasn’t going to be picked up tonight anyway. She went to help her mother with the dishes, then wandered into the den, where her father was listening to the radio.

  “Reports out of Charleston say the seas are getting pretty bad down that way. Seems like Hazel is swinging a little closer than they thought.”

  “Should we do anything?” Larkin peered out at the forbidding sky. The rain had stopped, just as she’d expected, but there was an eerie stillness. Approaching hurricanes could be fickle—stormy one moment and quiet the next. They wouldn’t know Hazel’s true intent until she got a lot closer—or turned out to sea.

  “I’m going to get Hank on the phone, make sure he’s secured the jobsites.” Daddy glanced out the window, too. “We’re far enough off the beach, we should be fine.” He turned to go pick up the hall phone, but Larkin touched his arm.

  “Daddy, I . . .”

  “What is it?” He sounded impatient, in a hurry to make his phone call.

  Larkin stiffened her spine. “I want to get in touch with Ben. I want to know what he’s doing, where he is. Maybe even go see him.” She felt a tingle of adrenaline laced with fear. She raised her chin.

  Her father drew himself to his full height and glared at Larkin. “I am willing to tolerate a great deal of nonsense from you, young lady. But there will be no further discussion of your brother. Ever.”

  He spun on his heel and left the room. Larkin stood, hand still extended where she’d reached out to touch his arm. Tears rose, but she dashed them away. Fine. She’d do this without his blessing. It was high time she stretched her wings.

  Larkin moved to the front sitting room where they hardly ever went. The furniture was perfect, the art matched the drapes, and there wasn’t a speck of dust. A break in the clouds let the last rays of the sun shine through with that eerie, hurricane light—like throwing a yellow scarf over a lampshade. Larkin went to the front door and eased it open, holding her breath as it creaked slightly. She slipped outside. She would mail her letter tonight. If only because she needed the fresh air.

  Chapter

>   12

  Judd felt restless. Maybe it was the storm brewing. Everyone seemed to think the hurricane would stay well out to sea, but he wasn’t so sure. He’d seen enough storms roll up in the mountains to have the feeling this one was coming straight for them. Rain had fallen off and on all evening, and he’d never seen a sky quite like the one out there tonight. Wind whipped the palmetto trees in fits, like it couldn’t make up its mind whether to stay or go. Judd hoped it would go.

  He was supposed to meet Carlton at the timber company office at nine the next morning. He’d packed a knapsack with a few items he thought he’d need. Carlton had promised him the use of a rifle and fishing equipment “should the need arise.” Judd checked his pack again, the uneasy feeling translating itself to everything around him, making the room, the house, and the yard look like alien territory. It reminded him of Korea and how danger often lurked in the least likely places.

  Judd could hear the radio playing in the sitting room, so he stepped down the hall and lounged in a doorway. His landlady and the older man who stayed in the back room were seated, leaning toward the voice emanating from the speaker.

  “. . . a high-level northeasterly wind was expected to push the storm out to sea,” the announcer said. Then there was a pause that lasted a beat too long. “But reports from down around Charleston, South Carolina, suggest the seas are getting rough. The last report from a hurricane-hunter airplane indicated that Hazel has reached one hundred fifty miles per hour and has shifted to the northwest moving at thirty miles per hour.” There was another too-long pause. “Batten down the hatches, folks. This one could hit.”

  His landlady snapped off the radio and looked at Judd, who stood up straighter. “You ever seen a hurricane before?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She shrugged. “May not see one tonight, but my bones tell me you will.” She glanced out the front window. “I’m going to my son’s place inland a ways. You and him”—she pointed with her thumb—“are the only ones still here. Don’t do anything foolish.”